


oh skyscrapers, i’ll never look down again, again

by hihoplastic



Series: DW Tumblr Prompts/Reposts [11]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-18
Updated: 2013-08-18
Packaged: 2017-12-23 20:49:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/930953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hihoplastic/pseuds/hihoplastic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He starts awake to the sound of torrential rain and—are those <i>swords?</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	oh skyscrapers, i’ll never look down again, again

**Author's Note:**

> \- title from ok go's _skyscraper_  
>  \- for aly's prompt on tumblr, "River/Doctor somehow they're in a fantasy/medieval setting and River rescues the Doctor from a tower. As a space knight."

The Doctor peers out the tiny, barred window of his cell and sighs. The sky is clear, sunlight streaking a pattern on the dusty floor; below, he can just make out the guards, like specs against the rough landscape, and the moat that circles the tower. 

They’d been thorough this time, he’ll give them that—built a solid, skyscraping tower in the middle of nowhere with a single room at the very top. No doors, one tiny window, a cot, and a bucket for any necessary bodily functions. There’s no food—the enchantment around the tower keeps him alive, but it’s the _boredom_ that’s killing him. 

It’s been three weeks, and he’s started talking to himself, just to hear the sound of another voice. 

One of these days, he’s going to learn not to interfere with human stuff. 

He’s tried escaping, of course—searched every nook and cranny of the cell dozens of times over for a fault or a crack in the spell. It took him a week to run through every counter-curse he knows, but it’s too strong, and he knows whoever built this had help. There’s no way Kovarian acted alone. Despite her considerable powers, she doesn’t have the strength or wherewithal to create a spell this intense, this impenetrable. 

He knows only one person with the means to do this, but she _wouldn’t._ Would she? _No. Of course not._

The Doctor shakes the thought aside, and tries not to let other, more horrifying ones creep in. Because if she _did_ do this, it wasn’t willingly, and the notion twists at his gut. He needs to get out of here. 

Yesterday.

He’d done everything in his power to get a message to her—telepathy, skywriting, summoning a raven. It’s old hat and cliche, but even the poor bird had become disoriented the moment it was within range, flapped pitifully and flew off to avoid whatever curse beleaguered the tower. 

Sighing heavily, the Doctor sits cross-legged on his mattress, trying to soak up what little sunlight creeps through the bars. 

Part of him thinks he deserves this punishment. Locked away with all his sins for the rest of eternity. He’s dangerous, and he knows that, everyone knows that. The prophecy weighs heavily on his shoulders, and he wonders if maybe this is for the best. If everyone’s safer this way, after all. 

_That’s complete rubbish, sweetie,_ he hears her say, and you know it. _The good in you far outweighs the bad, and I’m living proof. If anyone wants you, they’ll have to go through me first._

“You’re wrong, River,” he mutters to himself. 

_I’m never wrong._

“What about Albion?” 

_...fair enough. But did you really expect me to believe Arthur was going to bring about peace? He can’t find his own arse half the time._

The Doctor snorts. “Careful, dear, that’s your King you’re talking about.”

_The last time either of us answered to a king, you were in diapers and I wasn’t even born yet. And in case you’ve forgotten, you’re shacked up in a tower at the behest of said ‘king.’_

“I haven’t forgotten, though really, it's only because Kovarian's got him under her thumb. Again,” he mutters, keeping his eyes closed. If he concentrates, it’s almost like she’s with him, not just in his head. “Speaking of which, why are you so contrary? You’re my imagination.” 

_You like me contrary, sweetie. You think it’s sexy._

“Do not.”

_Do so. You’re imagining me naked right now._

“I absolutely am no— _damn it_.” 

She laughs, even as he conjures the image of soft curves and warm thighs. _I don’t mind, sweetie. I am your wife, after all._

“I wish you were here.” 

_I know. I will be. I promise. Hold on, my love. Hold on._

He falls asleep to the sound of her voice. 

\--

He starts awake to the sound of torrential rain and—are those _swords?_

Attempting to see through the storm and bars, he pulls his robes tighter around him. It’s cold all of a sudden, dreadfully cold, wind and rain gusting through the window. He can’t see anything until there’s a crack of lightening, and when he looks down, all the guards that surround the tower have convened to one location, just on the other side of the drawbridge, shields raised and swords pointed at a figure in black robes. 

River. 

Of course, he scolds himself, who else would make such a dramatic entrance? 

As if sensing his thoughts, another flash of lightning bursts, and two of the guards are down, a third running toward her. He cries out, but his voice is lost, and it’s far too dark for far too long before another bolt, and now there are three down, and he rolls his eyes. 

Best help her out, then. 

He tries again, all the spells and tricks he knows, but all he manages is to wiggle the bars a bit. The tower’s still surrounded, the spell still in place, and he huffs. 

“I am never going to live this down,” he grumbles, abandoning his efforts to look out the window again. There are only two guards left, and while he hopes she hasn’t actually killed them, he can’t say he particularly minds that they’re all unconscious on the ground. 

Though how she’s going to get him out of the tower, he still hasn’t figured. 

A spike of metal shoots through the bars and he barely has time to yelp and jump back as the claw affixes itself to the ledge. 

No.

Oh, no.

She’s so not going to—the rope attached to the claw gives a good tug, stretched taught, and the Doctor moans. He can’t see the side of the tower from this angle, but that doesn’t stop him from shouting out the window. 

“River! River what are you doing!” 

His voice is lost to a roll of thunder, and he glares. 

“You can’t just change the weather every time you don’t like what I have to sa—”

A crack of lightening. 

He huffs. 

“I’m telling your parents!” 

A large raindrop slaps him in the face. 

“Oi!” 

When the thunder rolls this time, it sounds like laughter. Grumbling, he waits. And waits, and waits, and occasionally yells out the window. It’s a very, very tall tower, and while he knows it’s his rescue and he should be patient, it’s getting on and he’s quite cold and “Any time you like, dear!” 

He yelps as a cold wind rolls through the cell, and he’s about to retort when a small, pale hand wraps around one of the bars, and then she’s there, hair clinging to her neck, robe discarded, her thin white shirt plastered to her skin and oh, she’s beautiful. 

Panting with effort, she still manages a smile. “Hello, sweetie,” she says breathlessly. He wraps his hands over hers. 

“Hello, dear. Nice climb?”

“Bit of a workout. My thighs are _burning._ ” 

He swallows. “Afraid I can’t help you there.”

“Not right now, at any rate.” 

The Doctor smiles. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you, too. We’ll do mushy later—right now we’ve got to get out of here before Kovarian realises I’ve capacitated all her cohorts.” 

“She’s alive, then?” 

“Unfortunately,” she says darkly. “Now, about these bars—”

“The spell’s still in tact. I couldn’t get through it. Even my magic won’t work.” His tone is sombre, and she understands the danger behind his words. If Kovarian’s grown strong enough, even with help, to hold him this long...

“We’ll figure it out,” she says, shifting to get a better grip on the ledge. “For now, we’ll have to do this the old fashioned way.”

He frowns. “Old fashioned?”

River nods. “With science.”

“Ooh! I love science.” He claps his hands together. 

“There’s a vial in my shirt, can you reach it?”

“Your shirt?” he stammers, and she glares.

“I’m holding on for dear life, sweetie, I can’t very well let go now can I? Shirt, vial, now.”

He nods quickly, averts his eyes, and reaches through the bars, down the front of her shirt between her breasts and snatches a tiny vial of liquid. “What’s this?” 

“Acid. It’ll dissolve the bars. If you could get a move on—”

“Yes, right, ‘course.” He fumbles with the lid. 

“And be _careful._ ” 

“Right, sorry.” 

Barely a drop on each iron cracks the material instantly, and the Doctor smirks. “Science, eh?”

“Well. Not entirely.” She smirks. “Now hurry up.” 

She disappears, lowering herself a little ways down the rope, and the Doctor heaves himself up and out through the window, barely fitting. He’s soaked at once, and spare a moment to glare down at her. 

“Was this _really_ necessary?” 

“How do you think I’m interfering with Kovarian’s spell?” 

Oh. 

_Oh._

“Oh, that’s brilliant! The electricity in the air—”

“Confuses the spell just enough to slip a little magic in without being noticed, yes, sweetie, I thought of everything, now _move._ ”

He salutes, slips a bit, and grabs the rope with both hands. Regaining control, he gulps, and looks down. All the way down. A long, long, very deadly way down. Taking a deep breath, he starts to lower himself, hand over hand, feet fumbling for the outcroppings in the stones. He checks every so often to make sure River’s still in front of him, and she hasn’t said a word about the view so he knows she must be tired and concentrating. 

He’s going to owe her so big for this, and he’ll tell her as much, as soon as they’re back on solid ground. 

Rain whips around his eyes and stings his cheeks, but he keeps going. River will kill him if she’s gone through all this effort and he falls and kills himself half-way down. Best not incur that wrath, he thinks. 

When they finally, finally reach the bottom, the Doctor wipes his hands on his robe, skin stinging, and cranes his neck back to look up at the tower. 

“Blimey. You’d think they really wanted to keep me indoors.” 

With a possessive growl, River tugs him closer. “The only ‘indoors’ you’ll ever be is _mine,_ ” she says, before kissing him soundly. The Doctor squeaks in surprise, but quickly attunes to the kiss, wrapping his arms tightly around her waist, tongue begging entrance to her mouth and she moans, leaning into him. 

When they pull away they’re both gasping, breathless, and he gentle brushes a thumb over her cheek. “And what sort of time do you call this?” he murmurs, and her responding smile is brilliant. 

“Let’s go home.” 

The Doctor sighs, content to just cuddle his wife for a moment longer. “It’s quite a trek out of Kovarian’s lands.” 

“On foot, yes. Fortunately for us, however...”

His eyes snap to hers. 

“You didn’t.”

She smiles, before turning away, pushing two fingers into her mouth and letting out a long, loud whistle. 

Before the Doctor can even slap his hands over his ears, there are hoof-beats, coming steadily closer through the downpour, and his heart soars. 

“Idris!” 

The white horse whinnies, gallops straight to him, and with what he’s positive is a glare, butts him in the forehead. 

“Ow! What was that for?” 

“Getting yourself captured, I’d imagine. You gave her quite a scare.” 

He blushes. “Sorry, dears,” he says, petting both River and his horse. Idris tosses her mane joyfully while River glowers. The Doctor coughs. “Right. So. Shall we?” He goes to mount the horse, but River beats him to it, chuckling. 

“Oh, no, Doctor. We’re in charge of this rescue. That means I’m driving.” 

Idris stamps a hoof in agreement, and the Doctor sputters. 

“But—but she’s my horse!” 

Idris snorts. 

“Fine. I’m her wizard. Whatever. But that means I sit in front.” River arches an eyebrow, and the Doctor sighs. “Fine.” 

Pleased, River reaches an arm down and helps haul him onto the back of the saddle. He’s barely gotten his arms around her waist when she taps her heels against Idris’ sides, and she bolts, tearing off across the landscape toward the trees. 

“River! River, you’re guiding her wrong, you can’t—River!” He clings as tightly as he can. “Where are the breaks!” 

“She’s a horse, dear, she doesn’t have breaks.” Idris whinnies in response. “See?”

Shrieking as Idris darts forward even faster, the Doctor squeezes his eyes shut. “I hate you!”

With the sound of the storm fading behind them, the treeline in the distance, and the weight of her husband against her back, River laughs. “No, you don’t!”


End file.
